to be fun, and the curiosity he’d built
up over the years was about to be answered, but he found himself repelled by what
was transpiring. As he watched Candy tugging his pants down, a wave of repulsion swept
over him.
Candy wasn’t one of the sleek and silky women from his magazines; she was a short,
fat, ugly, drunk girl with a mottled complexion and without even the pretense of femininity.
She wasn’t even clean.
What Candy lacked in hygiene she made up for in enthusiasm, and she busied herself
doing battle with his trousers. As soon as she had his olive drab boxer shorts down,
she pounced. Ray fought the urge to puke as Candy’s superior weight pinned him to
the back seat. She reached down between their collective legs to guide him inside
her, but let out a gasp when she found him limp.
“What’s wrong with you?” she shrieked in an alcohol-slurred voice. She stared at his
shriveled gland. “You some kind of a weirdo? Can’t get it up?”
Ray looked down in dismay at his unresponsive penis. The car was spinning.
“Fucking loser,” she blurted. “Wait till I tell ’em about this. Can’t even get his
dick up. Real party animal, that’s what you are.” She started to climb off Ray. “You
aren’t a homo, are you?”
Ray bolted upright and smashed his fist directly into Candy’s mouth. Blood sprayed
from her lips. Both his hands found Candy’s throat and he lunged forward, pushing
her against the front seat.
“Fucking whore!” he screamed as he choked her with all his might. Candy struggled
and tried to yell out, but Ray punched her again and again, returning his fists to
her throat between strikes.
“Slut! Whore! You fucking whore!” he howled repeatedly. Blood from Candy’s nose and
mouth stained his hands. As he alternated between hammering her with his fists and
strangling her, Ray noticed that his formerly inert penis was now ramrod straight.
He couldn’t remember ever being so aroused. He closed his eyes and saw images of Sissy,
back in his father’s garage, as a boy.
Suddenly, the world turned upside down. The car’s doors were wrenched open from the
outside, and Ray was roughly grabbed by several pairs of hands. He found himself on
the dusty ground of the nightclub parking lot with his pants around his ankles. He
sensed a crowd around him and could hear Candy howling hysterically. He tried to stand
up but his level of intoxication, combined with the trousers bundled around his feet,
hampered him. He struggled to his knees and was just getting his balance, when something
hard struck him on the back of the head and the lights went out.
Ray woke up the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever experienced. He was
lying on the floor in a cell and covered in his own vomit. The night before was a
hazy blur.
It was the end of Ray’s military career. Due to Candy’s level of inebriation, her
age, and inability to coherently testify, formal civilian prosecution was not pursued.
But the Armed Forces Uniform Code of Military Justice was not as lenient.
Ray was dismissed from the army with a dishonorable discharge. His military career,
along with his dream of aviation, was obliterated. A crushed Ray returned home to
California.
Back in Alameda, home was no home. Things had only gotten worse in his yearlong absence.
His mother, now unemployed and drunk most of the time, followed him around the house,
berating him. With no money, Ray had nowhere to go and no choice but to remain and
endure it. The seeds of bitterness planted in the child began to flourish in the man.
Once again, his chances for success and happiness were dashed. Destroyed by a whore.
A slut. If only he hadn’t gone to the nightclub. If only he hadn’t been drinking.
If only the slut hadn’t made fun of him and called him those names. If only things
had turned out different.
If only Sissy hadn’t been a slut. And a whore.
If only.
Ray
up over the years was about to be answered, but he found himself repelled by what
was transpiring. As he watched Candy tugging his pants down, a wave of repulsion swept
over him.
Candy wasn’t one of the sleek and silky women from his magazines; she was a short,
fat, ugly, drunk girl with a mottled complexion and without even the pretense of femininity.
She wasn’t even clean.
What Candy lacked in hygiene she made up for in enthusiasm, and she busied herself
doing battle with his trousers. As soon as she had his olive drab boxer shorts down,
she pounced. Ray fought the urge to puke as Candy’s superior weight pinned him to
the back seat. She reached down between their collective legs to guide him inside
her, but let out a gasp when she found him limp.
“What’s wrong with you?” she shrieked in an alcohol-slurred voice. She stared at his
shriveled gland. “You some kind of a weirdo? Can’t get it up?”
Ray looked down in dismay at his unresponsive penis. The car was spinning.
“Fucking loser,” she blurted. “Wait till I tell ’em about this. Can’t even get his
dick up. Real party animal, that’s what you are.” She started to climb off Ray. “You
aren’t a homo, are you?”
Ray bolted upright and smashed his fist directly into Candy’s mouth. Blood sprayed
from her lips. Both his hands found Candy’s throat and he lunged forward, pushing
her against the front seat.
“Fucking whore!” he screamed as he choked her with all his might. Candy struggled
and tried to yell out, but Ray punched her again and again, returning his fists to
her throat between strikes.
“Slut! Whore! You fucking whore!” he howled repeatedly. Blood from Candy’s nose and
mouth stained his hands. As he alternated between hammering her with his fists and
strangling her, Ray noticed that his formerly inert penis was now ramrod straight.
He couldn’t remember ever being so aroused. He closed his eyes and saw images of Sissy,
back in his father’s garage, as a boy.
Suddenly, the world turned upside down. The car’s doors were wrenched open from the
outside, and Ray was roughly grabbed by several pairs of hands. He found himself on
the dusty ground of the nightclub parking lot with his pants around his ankles. He
sensed a crowd around him and could hear Candy howling hysterically. He tried to stand
up but his level of intoxication, combined with the trousers bundled around his feet,
hampered him. He struggled to his knees and was just getting his balance, when something
hard struck him on the back of the head and the lights went out.
Ray woke up the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever experienced. He was
lying on the floor in a cell and covered in his own vomit. The night before was a
hazy blur.
It was the end of Ray’s military career. Due to Candy’s level of inebriation, her
age, and inability to coherently testify, formal civilian prosecution was not pursued.
But the Armed Forces Uniform Code of Military Justice was not as lenient.
Ray was dismissed from the army with a dishonorable discharge. His military career,
along with his dream of aviation, was obliterated. A crushed Ray returned home to
California.
Back in Alameda, home was no home. Things had only gotten worse in his yearlong absence.
His mother, now unemployed and drunk most of the time, followed him around the house,
berating him. With no money, Ray had nowhere to go and no choice but to remain and
endure it. The seeds of bitterness planted in the child began to flourish in the man.
Once again, his chances for success and happiness were dashed. Destroyed by a whore.
A slut. If only he hadn’t gone to the nightclub. If only he hadn’t been drinking.
If only the slut hadn’t made fun of him and called him those names. If only things
had turned out different.
If only Sissy hadn’t been a slut. And a whore.
If only.
Ray
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